High and Dry
by SofiaLeith
Summary: Set on 2.11 episode, Neal and Peter drink enough for them to be honest, but too much for it to last long. Please R&R.


**A/N:** Just a one-shot, not as much slash as one would probably expect, but I haven't written smut in a while, so I'm gonna need some time to get used to it again. Set right after episode 2x14 "Payback", when Peter gets kidnapped and almost killed. Hope you enjoy it, and please R&R.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own White Collar...sadly.

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"You freaked me out!" His breath was on Neal's face.

"I'm sorry." His hands were wrapping around his waist.

"Don't do it again." His lips were so close, he wanted it so bad. Actually, he had the right to get some sort of affection after the hellish day he'd had. Yet, he refrained.

"You should go. El will be worried if you don't return soon." It was barely a whisper, but it was there. Peter shook his head and pursed his lips. The warmth of his hands was gone.

"But I am here now." He said, giving Neal a meaningful look.

"And, lucky for you, I can't really change addresses on a whim, so I'll be here anytime of the week. Just drop by some other day." Neal backed away, discarding his jacket on a nearby chair and smiled. The attempt to fool the other man was futile, Peter knew him better than that. The smile was strained and it did not reach his eyes.

"I won't let you pull away from me, Caffrey." He stated, approaching Neal slowly. His smile disappeared, and he backed away further. However, there is only so much space inside one's apartment, Peter had him pined against the table in two strides.

"That's not really up to you, Peter."

"Why are you doing this?" He sighed anxiously and put both hands on the table behind Neal. "It's not like I woke up and thought, '_well, today I'll get kidnapped_.'" No matter what he said, Neal's expression was undecipherable, his posture rigid, and his eyes cold. "Tell me what is wrong." He whispered against the ex-con's lips, staring right into his cerulean eyes.

They stayed that way, silent still in the middle of the room, Neal backed up against the table, Peter feeling his patience wearing thin by the minute. He wouldn't, no, he couldn't leave him like this. Something had changed and he needed to change it back.

He would camp inside June's house if he had to. He would read every single book on that gigantic bookcase Neal had, he would drink every single bottle of wine in that wine rack, he would do anything, but he would not leave while Neal was in this state.

It had taken so long for both of them to admit there was more than just friendship between them, he wouldn't risk it. If the day had shown him anything, it was that he could not make it without the other man, as much as it frightened him to admit it.

"Talk to me." Sighing, Neal looked away and then back again.

"Maybe this was a mistake." _No!_

"It's not a mistake. What are you talking about, Caffrey?"

"I just think we are getting to close, maybe we need to take a step back and slow things down a bit." Neal casually said, pushed Peter back, and walked towards his bed, loosening his tie. No, no, Peter would not let him just turn his back on him, on _them_, just because things had almost gone wrong during a mission (ok, a trap).

He strode after Neal, grabbed his left wrist and turned the man back to him. His frosty expression was gone, it left a pained expression behind, and an emotion he dared not name shone on his eyes. As quick as he had seen it, it was gone.

"You know how long it took for us to get here. I know things are rocky to say the least, I know how much El bothers you, even if you—don't, don't deny it, you know she does." He said when Neal shook his head and looked down. "We are working everything out, but I need you to trust me and tell what is going on!"

"Peter, this has been a really long day, we should just call it a—"

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, I just need to rest." By now Peter was holding both Neal's arms, and what angered him the most was the sudden calm compliant exterior his lover showed him.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I said nothing—"

"TELL ME!"

"I CANT' LOSE YOU TOO!"

And that was it. The dam broke. Neal's breathing was suddenly harsh, he was practically panting, what started as a subtle blush turned into a full body flush, and the pain he had shown earlier was replaced by raw panic.

"Neal…" He started softly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Peter."

"I'm not—"

"What if something went wrong today? More than it already did. What if I had not managed to make the exchange? What if there was no pin on your suit? So many things could have gone wrong." Peter caressed up and down Neal's arms and felt the man slowly start to relax in his arms. He leaned his forehead against Neal's, feeling relieved already. Neal was talking to him again. They were almost embracing each other. Not all was lost, not yet.

"Yet, it all went right."

"This time, Peter, this time! First, Kate died, than Mozz almost did and now you…I can't keep doing this, I can't keep—"

"Nothing will happen to me. And what was your brilliant plan anyway? Push me away until you don't care whether I live or die?" He chuckled, though it was a hollow laugh, and Neal glared at him.

"No, of course not. I just needed some space, some time to figure it all out."

"Figure what out?"

"Figure out how I feel about this." Neal said, gesturing both of them.

"I thought we had this conversation before." Blue eyes momentarily shone with mirth.

"I don't recall a lot of talking, Peter." Peter smiled, but the tone of their talk quickly turned back to serious.

"You're right, we didn't talk. Then why are doing this now?"

"You almost died today. That definitely puts things into a new perspective." A gulp, a pause and, "Hon."

Brown eyes widened, his world stopped for a moment. Neal looked like a scared kid after admitting some wrongdoing, and Peter had no idea what to say. All he knew was that his heart beat so fast he thought he was having a heart attack, and he needed, _physically needed_, to hold Neal. _Now_.

"Peter? Please, say someth—"

And he was home again. No more arguing, no more doubting and worrying, there was just heat, tongues and lips. Neither of them could say exactly what they wanted to say, Neal used 'hon', Peter used his lips, his body. Their tongues fought a battle for them, but they had already won, or maybe already lost, no, there was no winning or losing when it came to how they felt. There was just them. Neal's hands desperately sought out Peter's skin, caressing his collarbone, his neck, his jaw. Peter's hands were equally busy trying to undress Neal in record time.

Peter paused, his breath coming in short pants, but he had to say this, "How do you think I feel when you have to go undercover somewhere? When I know you're in danger? I feel the same way you do, but I don't run from you. Whatever happens, we'll get through it, but…" He hesitated. Some things are always hard to say, "I need you with me."

Neal smiled, an honest, content, smile. He pulled Peter's shirt from his pants and put his hand underneath it, pushing the man's tie with the other, leading them towards the bed. "I'm here. I'm with you. Whatever will you do with me now?" Neal's voice was hoarse, his hand was warm and soft, and Peter did his best to suppress a shiver.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

Neal fell gracefully on his bed, like he always did, Peter had somehow managed to remove his vest and the buttons of his shirt were already half undone. He suspected Caffrey had surreptitiously undone them himself - Peter could be clumsy when he was in a hurry, but right now he didn't care who undressed who, he just _needed to feel_ Neal, and by the way the ex-con's body reacted to his touches, Neal needed to feel him too.

They stopped so Peter could remove his jacket and shirt, both winced when they heard the sound of fabric tearing and some buttons falling on the floor. Peter should have more self control, hurry less, but when he looked down at Neal all rational thought left him. The man was laying there, shirt opened to reveal his chiseled chest, a lazy smile on his lips. How could poor Agent Burke resist that?

Neal, tired of waiting and watching his older lover fumble with the belt clasp, grabbed Peter by the back of his neck and pulled him down for a heated kiss. He opened both belts with his free hand, and promptly shoved his hands down Peter's pants. The agent groaned, biting Neal's lips. A hoarse chuckle escaped and mingled with their kiss.

"So vocal today."

"So cheeky today."

"Oh, please, Peter. I'm always cheeky."

They laughed and their kiss slowed down, Peter let his full weight drop on Neal, carefully molding their bodies together. Neal arched up, wiggled around a little, and finally found the position he was searching for.

"Peter…"

He moaned and closed his eyes. Peter did his best to not come right there and then, feeling more aroused than ever just by looking at Neal, just by hearing him say his name the way he just had, just by seeing his swollen pink lips and having the knowledge that he was responsible for that.

They wouldn't last long. Too much built-up sexual tension, too much want, need and arousal. Neal grabbed at Peter's hair, Peter smiled and bit his lips, letting his hands roam free on familiar territory, caressing perfectly flawless pale skin partially hidden under expensive clothing, feeling every shiver, hearing every moan.

"Neal. I…I'm close."

That was all he managed to say before he froze, feeling his orgasm rush through him, listening to Neal's soft words of endearment in his ear, every sensation intensifying his pleasure.

Neal patiently waited for him, but there was only so much patience a man could have in such a situation. Peter kissed his lips, his cheek, his jaw, bit his neck, all the while running a hand down Neal's chest, finally reaching inside the man's pants.

"Yeah!"

Whenever Peter had the state of mind to observe, he always felt a little proud (and silly for feeling this pride), that he managed to reduce the ever so articulate Neal Caffrey to monosyllabic moans.

"Just like that…faster…Peter!" His chest arched and he came with a cry, his whole expression contorted in pleasure, his eyes tightly shut. Peter used the opportunity to kiss him all over, feeling his trembling body with his lips, cleaning his dirty hand on clean sheets.

They laid down next to each other after that, Peter's arms encircling Neal's body, the agent was surprisingly alert now, trying to burn into his memory every detail of the moment. Neal was smiling broadly, eyes almost shut, hands lazily exploring Peter's body.

"I can't believe we just came in our pants like a couple of teenagers." Neal just laughed and kissed Peter languidly, clearly wanting more than just a cuddle.

"How much time do we have?"

"Well, I said that maybe I wouldn't go home tonight, because you were wrecked with guilt, and I was worried you would do something stupid."

"Hmm, nice one." Neal said, slowly climbing on top of Peter.

"I wasn't lying."

"I know. And now you have at least a few hours to reassure me that everything is fine." He said, smiling deviously at the man beneath him. "Lube is on the bedside table, right next to the lamp."

"What if I'm not ready for round two?" Peter teased.

"Well, you better be, because I'm not letting you leave this bed until sunrise."

And, indeed, Peter stayed. Until _after_ sunrise.

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**A/N:** For those who don't remember, "Hon" is how Peter and Elizabeth say "I love you". I didn't want to say anything on the A/N above the fanfic so not to spoil it. Again, I hope you enjoyed the fic, please R&R. :)


End file.
